Winner take All
by diva.gonzo
Summary: One-shot. Complete. It's the Quidditch World Cup final, and Dumbledore's Army is present in the VIP Box. While the match was in play, Ron kissed Hermione on the cheek. But what no one knew was that they had a bet on who would win. Who would win, and Winner takes all! Rated M for Lemons and Ron's coarse language. Cover art by the lovely Catching Smoke.


**A/N:** this was inspired by this afternoon's Quidditch World Cup final between Brasil and Bulgaria on Pottermore. I had so much fun reading the commentary – and play-by-play – and was inspired to write this. But the inspiration was the sweet canon kiss, between Ron and Hermione, that I had to write something smutty, (and since I was requested by quite a few people, too.)

_**Rated M**_ for Ron's dirty mouth, plenty of lemons, and some fluff as well. So if lemon infused smut isn't your taste, you can read the other stuff I've posted this week.

**A/N2:** Thanks to JK Rowling for writing out fanfiction for the rest of us, _gratis_, and letting all of us draw in her world, and write in it too. Suffice to say, I'm not her. And I'm not Rita Skeeter or Ginny Potter, either. - _DG_

* * *

Ron trudged back into their tent, sitting right next door to the one that Harry had for his family. It was smaller, almost like the one they were forced to use, but it was still comfortable.

"Buggering bastard. He's bloody 50 and still catches the fucking snitch. He's so old that brooms will fly out from his arse."

"Ron, you're complaining like Aunt Muriel."

Ron stopped at the camp stove and turned on his wife. "I am not. I'm bloody well pissed I lost the bet with you. I expected Brasil to take it in six hours and I certainly didn't expect that tosser of a Seeker for Brasil to lose to Viktor Bloody Krum inside 3 hours!"

Hermione stepped up to him and put the kettle onto the stove, setting it to warm for their evening tea. "Look, You picked Brasil just because Viktor came out of retirement for the World Cup. And he's not 50, you prat. He's not even 40, which is prime age for a Seeker on a national team." Hermione sighed dramatically. "It's not like futbol where the younger ones are faster and can handle more. This is Quidditch, where barring injury, an athlete in their prime health can fly at this level for at least another 5, maybe 10 years."

"And he's taking up a spot for someone who is just as hungry as he is."

Hermione tossed off her grey wool jacket onto the chair on their camp dining table. "Now you're just being a git."

Ron looked around. "Hey, it's quiet in here."

Hermione gave her husband a come hither look. "I know." Hermione toed off her trainers and socks.

"So where are they?"

"Hugo's with Harry and Al and Neville. They were celebrating tonight. If we're fortunate, Hugo will get to meet Viktor later on."

Ron poured the tea for two. "And Rose?"

"Oh, she's with Ginny and Lily Luna and Luna. She wanted to see what it was like reporting after a match. I told her she could go."

"So it's just us?"

Hermione stepped in front of her husband and smirked. "We have about 2 hours before our kids come back. And I do think that since I won our little bet, you should pay up before they get back."

Ron turned and pointed his wand at the doorway to their tent, sealing and silencing the entire structure. He also pulled the kettle back off of the stove.

"Better, Mrs. Weasley?"

"I thought you'd never ask."

Hermione put her hands on his face and felt the light stubble under her fingertips. "Kneel down for me, please."

"Absolutely!" Ron did as he asked and Hermione ran her fingers through his hair. "Skeeter's being a cow. Your hair isn't thinning. It's all here. She must need glasses after the howler we went last week."

Ron pulled his wife closer, using his large hands on her hips and onto the swell of her arse. He lifted her blouse and nuzzled the skin of her stomach. "Quit talking about the Bug. We've only got a limited amount of time."

"Yes, of course, you're right," Hermione replied back while running her short nails across his scalp. "So what were the terms of our bet, anyway? I think you said that the winner got whatever they wanted."

Ron looked up. Brown eyes still captivated him after all these years. "I said that, and I reckon I mean it."

"What I want, Ronald Weasley, is for you to take me to be and have your way with me."

"That's all you want?"

Hermione nodded with a decadent smile on her face. It was the one that she kept only for him. It was open, honest, unvarnished, raw, and powerful. That look was what he used to fuel his _Patronus_ to this day.

"Well, books when we get home will be nice, but a shag the way I want is all I need for now."

Ron kissed her along the waistline of her denims, feeling her stomach twitch under his lips. "And what way is that, Love?" Hermione shivered under his caresses. She felt his hands working under her blouse and manipulating the catches on her brassiere. A quick flip of his fingers and her breasts were freed from their restraints.

"Take me to bed and I'll show you, my love."

Ron picked her up and threw her across his shoulders and carried her to their bed. The king-sized one for their tent was just comfortable for the two weeks they were in Patagonia. He laid her back down on the White and Red bedclothes. She settled down and crooked her finger back at him. "I'm waiting."

Ron chuckled. "Well, if you're impatient."

Hermione sat up and threw her blouse and brassiere over the side of the bed. "Well, it's not like we have all night for this."

Ron yanked his jumper over his head along with his garish yellow button down shirt. "You're complaining about what I did for you last night? I could have sworn you were purring like a Kneazle with a tub of crème after I made you scream bloody murder."

Hermione worked the button and zipper of her denims, shuffling them down the curve of her hips and legs. "Oh I'm hardly upset with the pleasure you gave me last night. It was wonderful and you certainly do have a way with those lips of yours."

Hermione flopped back on the bed and shoved her jeans off her feet and tossed them over the side as well. She moved around to where she was kneeling on the bed in nothing but her Orange knickers.

"Buggering Fuck, you look fantastic."

"Well, if you'd finish disrobing I could pay you the same compliment."

Ron looked and realized he'd been watching his wife disrobe while he stood before her in his Navy chinos and white undershirt. "Oh, right, clothes gone."

He yanked the belt off of his waist and shoved his trousers and pants down his legs. "Shite," He groaned while trying to toe off his trainers that were now twisted into the cotton fabric of his slacks.

Hermione giggled while he untangled his large feet from the mess on the ground.

"You think this is funny?"

Hermione started giggling further, watching one apparent appendage bounce along merrily while he tried to get the other trainer off. "As a matter of fact, I do. You're adorable when you get tangled up like that."

Ron shoved the last of the fabric off of his feet and stood up in triumph. "HaHa! Success." He turned and pounced on his wife on the bed, pinning her under his longer and heavier body. "I believe this is what was missing," he said before snogging her silly.

Hermione felt the waves of pleasure only her husband could elicit. In the fog of love and lust, she dragged her nails along his arms and under his chest. She felt the softness of his stomach under her fingers and worked her way to the stretch of ginger hair along his navel. "Ron," She whispered into his shoulder while he feasted on her neck.

Ron moved his body further down hers, feasting on the flesh on her chest. "Why, 'ello hello." He teased the left one while sucking on the right one, moving back and forth in equal attention and affection. He ran his hands up her body and tangled them into the mess known as her hair.

Hermione ran her hands into his hair and pulled gently, moving him back up her aching body. He kissed her again and nudged her head to the side. Ron dropped kisses along her jaw and neck, nipping the skin. "You wanted something different this afternoon?"

Hermione reached her hand further down his torso and found him anxious and waiting. "I do. I've been keen on trying it again."

Ron pushed up onto his hands and saw his wife was blushing virulently. "Please tell me that it's not a repeat of –"

She shook her head violently in the negative. "Heavens no, not that again. No, I was thinking something a bit sweeter."

"Howso?"

Hermione pushed her husband up from her prone form to where he was kneeling above her. "Why'd you kiss me in front of everyone? Please tell me it wasn't because you were thrilled Viktor got hurt and you were being possessive again."

"No, it wasn't that." Ron pouted for a second. "I wanted everyone to know that you're my wife, that you're there with me and damn it, if I want to kiss you while we're out in public in front of all those fans, then why not? It's not like our relationship is a huge secret at the Ministry or with our family. Merlin, we've been married for years now. Why shouldn't I kiss you in front of everyone?" Ron moved back down to his elbows and kissed his wife deeply again. "I thought you figured it out now that I'm still madly in love with you, and I even like you too. I want every single sodding person to know that you're my wife, you chose me, and I'll be arsed if anyone, especially that Bug in the box, says anything different about us, or you."

Hermione pushed her husband back up onto his knees and looked at him wantonly. "Since that's the reason for you kissing me in front of everyone, I accept." Hermione struggled to get to her knees. She turned around and wiggled back next to her husband. She shuffled her feet under his bits and nestled her hips onto the tops of his. "This is what I want, and this is what I need."

Ron pulled her tighter to his lanky frame and ran his hands up and down the front of her body. "Why didn't you say so? I'd have been happy to do this anytime you want." He settled further into his stance, letting his knees spread even wider.

Hermione wrapped her hands around his neck while he went back to feasting on the crevice between her neck and collarbone. "It's almost debauched when we do this, that's why. And I know you much prefer kissing me than almost anything else." She felt his heartbeat on the small of her back.

Ron moved his hands around her body, feeling the curves and dips that her younger body didn't possess. "I can appreciate you, especially when it comes to debauchery." Ron gently bit her neck and she arched into him. It was immediately followed with a feeling of completion. "Bloody hell, you were turned on."

They held still a moment, relishing the first moments truly together. He held his hands still, just resting on her hips and letting her acclimate once more to their coupling.

"That kiss in the box made it hard to sit still. I thought you saw that."

"I did and knew I had to have you sooner than later." Hermione wiggled her arse and Ron started moving with her.

"Oh that's fantastic. We should do it this way more often."

Hermione shivered almost immediately. "Oh G_d yes, more."

Ron started moving his hips, finding those particular nerve endings that were more sensitive than others. His hands were also busy, playing with her breasts and worrying the tips under his fingertips.

"But I don't think you minded what happened this morning after the kids were asleep." Ron kissed her neck again. "Not that I mind you pulling my hair half the time I was feasting on you. It's almost as enjoyable as shagging you, watching you fall apart under my tender loving care."

"And you are so talented. It must be from working with your hands every single day."

Hermione pulled her hands from his neck and worked them around her body, pulling his hips flush with hers. Delicate hairs under her fingertips stood on end under her touch.

"Talk to me, Love; tell me what more do you want," Ron purred into her ear before nibbling on the lobe.

"Oh fuck, just more. I don't care what. Just keep loving me."

Ron released one breast from his hands and worked his way further down her body. His fingers delved her flesh and found the bundle of nerves, just above where they were coupled. As soon as his fingers touched it, she keened. "Yes, that, more, harder," she muttered incoherently.

Ron went to work, barely keeping any sort of rhythm while pleasing his wife. Hermione turned her head and he kissed her deeply, using his tongue as a gauge of rhythm for his hips while ticking her most intimate flesh.

"Come for me," he whispered across her lips only seconds before she clamped down on him. She did and threw her head back over his shoulder moaning loud enough to be heard in Bahia Blanca. He settled his hips for a minute while waves of pleasure rolled over her.

Only when she moved her hands on his hips did he start back. "One's not enough, not today my Love."

Ron picked up the pace, moving his hands all over her body, finding little places to touch her while she panted in counterpoint. Hermione had worked up a sheen of sweat on her body from their actions. "One more, just for me, Hermione. I want noise complaints in Buenos Aires." He started losing his rhythm, growing erratic while the tension in his back tightened.

Ron felt her shuddering under his ministrations, muttering coarse epithets that were stimulating to his ears. "You're mine, and I'll be arsed if the whole world doesn't know it. Now scream for me, Hermione. I want everyone to know that you are mine." He pressed the heel of his hand onto the mound of flesh above where they were joined and she screamed, clamping hard on his member.

He pulled her down hard onto his hips with considerable force. "Fuck! Hermione," he groaned when the band in his back broke. Coarse epithets tripped over his tongue in an illogical litany.

Pants harmonized in their tent. "Ron," Hermione shuddered further. "That was worth winning a bet for."

Hermione slid forward and face planted into the pillow on the bed.

Ron stayed where he was at, just watching the flush on her back travel along her drenched skin. He heard her muttering into the pillow.

Only when she turned her head did he flop down next to her, completely ignoring the covers on their travel bed. "Hi," he said quietly.

Her half-lidded eyes looked on him fondly. "Don't tell anyone, but I fancy you."

"Really?" he cheeked back.

"Yeah. I really do. I don't act that way with just anyone."

"So who do you act that way for?"

"Viktor."

"You're being silly," he retorted back. He ran a hand along her spine and watched the hairs stand up under his fingertips. "That must have been fantastic."

"I am. It was. I could fall asleep right now and not wake until morning."

"So why don't you?"

"The kids. They'll be rambunctious the rest of the night."

"So? It's their first Quidditch World Cup. I wasn't any better at my first one, was I?"

"No, I seem to recall you were arse over tits about the Veelas, and you were secretly in love with Viktor Krum and his broom." Hermione winked at her husband. "So let's get dear Viktor and have our way with him, both of us. I don't think Gabrielle would mind at all."

Ron rolled onto his side and tickled his wife. "Take that back!"

Giggles echoed around their tent. "Ron loves Viktor." Ron tickled her further.

Hermione's laughter was music to his ears. Only he got to cherish her moans, her laughter, her giggles, and her screams. Ron Weasley, mental patient, was madly in love with his wife.


End file.
